Storm and Shadow
by The Rogue Wolf
Summary: When gates to Oblivion begin to open, a thief and an assassin find their fates intertwined. Can they overcome their differences soon enough to help the Hero of Kvatch save Tamriel? Rated for violence, slight language.
1. First Encounter

STORM AND SHADOW

An Oblivion fan fiction

She was an up-and-coming burglar in the Thieves' Guild. He was a remoreseless assassin for the Dark Brotherhood. Set at odds by occupation, philosophy and heredity, their paths cross in the depths of Fort Sutch, where they become trapped by rampaging Daedra. Can they set aside their differences long enough to survive, let alone help the Hero of Kvatch save all of Tamriel? 

(Please note: The Rhajiit race originates from an excellent add-on by Destinystrike.)

(DISCLAIMER: Oblivion and all its characters, places and events are property of Bethesda Softworks. All other characters included are my own creations and may not be used without permission though I'd probably give it if asked nicely. Some liberties have been taken with dialogue, events, etc., but the story parallels several of the main quests available in the game. Expect subtle references from other games, though, just for laughs.)

"Sometimes this one wishes you had beaten her to Allectus' home. The Icestaff is returned."

Ghariyt leaned against the table for a moment, brushing her hood off of her head with one hand. Methredhel smiled. "Excellent!" she exclaimed. "Nicely done, Prowler. You may be in for a promotion for this nice piece of work. Now we just wait for the powers-that-be to pull the plug on Hieronymous Lex's siege."

"This one has told you her name, yes?" Ghariyt sighed, habitually dropping into a Cyrodiilic dialect. "Anyway. I'm going home to get some rest."

"Of course, go ahead." Methredhel gave a strange look towards Dynari. "We have a few things to discuss now that your job is done," the Bosmer woman continued. "Enjoy your rest, you've earned it."

"Mmm-hmm." The Khajiit turned, her supple leather boots making no noise as she made her way to the door and out into the darkened Imperial City streets. A guard's casual patrol brought him by the door, but Ghariyt easily melded into the shadows, evading his notice. It was pretty much habit by now. _Much to discuss, I'm sure,_ she chuckled to herself. _A discussion that'll surely take place on that soft bed upstairs. Not that I care._ She yawned silently, stretching her tail._ Creeping by a mage who would not only recognize me but who could also have incinerated me where I stood is a bit taxing, and even that pitiful bed I call my own looks very good right now._

When she'd started this line of work, she'd hoped that she would be able to spend most of her "professional" hours away from the Imperial City. Cultivating the persona of Ghariyt the independently wealthy philanthropist, living amongst and lending support to the Imperial City's impoverished and spreading their cause amongst the rich, was difficult enough without risking revealing her double life. _If the social set had any inkling that all my fashionable dresses and jewelry were swiped from their own bedrooms, they'd make a fur cloak out of my hide,_ she mused. _Difficult to keep up the charade, but worthwhile. Who'd suspect me of being a thief, creeping through the sewers beneath their feet to steal their valuables? It would never be "one of their own"._

As she reached the door of her hovel on the waterfront, a slight smile played across her lips. All the difficulties aside, the look on Lex's face as the Dremora had handed him the note had just been _delicious_.

--

"This one has no further work for you at the moment, Cat Burglar." S'Krivva leaned back in her reading chair, her copy of _The Real Barenziah Vol. 2_ in her lap. Ghariyt idly wondered if it were the uncensored version."You've done well so far, but you will need to fill the pockets of our fences before we may consider you for any further tasks." She yawned, stood and placed the book back on the table by her chair. "In the meantime, hunter, this one intends to have lunch. Gilgondorin makes the most excellent braised mutton every Middas."

Ghariyt had tasted it herself, and would sooner lick clean the floor of every last passage in the Imperial City sewers than ever put a single bite of it in her mouth again. Apparently you didn't have to have a functioning sense of taste to become a Doyen. No matter to Ghariyt, though; this meant a bit of a break, a chance to practice some freeform thievery and plundering rather than sneaking into heavily-protected towers or Temple crypts. Bravil was hardly a suitable place for that- the only thief-like action this place inspired in her was stealing away- but Ghariyt knew of an out-of-the-way manor north of Anvil, owned by one Lord Drad. It was a good distance away, but there was always the stables outside the city walls; she could simply "borrow" one of their bay horses- not that the things were good for much more than ingredients in a stew, but they did run faster than her, especially with the help of a potion of swiftness or two. If the owners got excessively angry, she could stop by later as Ghariyt the socialite and give them a little extra exposure. That usually helped soothe heated minds.

So she left S'Krivva's home and walked along the muddy road back towards the Lonely Suitor Lodge, keeping her expensive (and stolen) skirts raised off the ground. Unlike the mer who ran Silverhome-on-the-Water, Bogrum gro-Galash knew how to make a decent meal, and graciously provided Ghariyt with a nice roasted venison steak every time she dropped by. Getting his favor by referring to him as Orsimer- the ancient race-name of the Orcs- had been a stroke of political genius any member of the Elder Council would've envied.

Distant thunder echoed over the walls, and dark clouds gathered along the eastern horizon. It seemed that Niben Bay would see quite the storm tonight. That suited Ghariyt's evening plans perfectly.

--/--

**CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.**

The hammer struck the inside of the breastplate repeatedly, each blow smoothing out the large dent in the single sheet of ebony. One had to be careful when repairing armor made of that material- if you didn't heat it enough while hammering, you'd damage it; heat it too much and you'd warp it. Tenzyrin had learned that "sweet spot" a long while back.

**CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.**

"Hey, Ten. Count Indarys just sent word, you're keeping him awake with all that banging." Grogon followed his words into the room, hefting his massive battle axe over a shoulder with one hand and carrying a large tankard in the other.

Tenzyrin didn't look up. "Send back word that I'd use your skull to hammer out these dents, but it'd shatter the armor."

The Orc laughed at that, almost spilling his mead on the floor. "Knew there was a reason I liked you, Ten," he chortled, taking a seat at the nearby table. "You're almost as insufferable as I am."

"I'd like you more if you didn't call me 'Ten'. Might help if you'd stop calling me a Khajiit, too." Finally, the Rhajiit looked up. "Of course, if you simply _bathed_ once a week my opinion of you would improve vastly."

"Bathing is for people who want friends." Grogon spared a glance over at Shadowhunt, Tenzyrin's bow. A brand new bowstring had been strung onto it, and fresh deep-grey leather wrappings covered the bow itself. "I don't get you sometimes, Ten. I mean, look at you." He gestured at Tenzyrin's bared, broad chest, and the powerful muscles that could easily be seen through the short covering of blue-white fur. "You're the only one in the Brotherhood I know of who could spend more than ten seconds standing in a fistfight with me, _including _Vincente, and that claymore you carry around isn't the kind of puny letter-opener I usually see in the scabbards around here. But you actually spend time trying to be stealthy and hitting things from a distance. Where's the fun in that?"

"That's the difference between you and I, Grogon." Tenzyrin flipped the breastplate over, and used his thick smith's gloves to smooth out the face, slowly pouring water onto the metal to cool it. "You're a killer. Point A to Point B, and leave everyone in your path in a pool of their own blood. As for me, I'm a predator. Sometimes my prey is every living or unliving soul in the place; sometimes it's one lone coward behind a wall of guards. I pick the tactic that's best for the situation. In the end, my prey lies dead and I walk away."

"That's probably why he gets all the choice contracts and you're always stuck here, stinking up the place, Grogon." Antoinetta poked her head into the exercise room. "Ocheeva wants to see the Storm Cat there." She paused, staring at the tall felinoid for a moment, then whistled. "Well, well, big boy," she teased the Rhajiit. "You could kill every woman in the place from swooning at those muscles of yours." If it was possible for a Breton to purr, she did so. "Maybe later we might sneak out to the Newlands Lodge and... discuss assassination techniques?"

Grogon laughed at that, beating a meaty fist against the table and almost upsetting his mug. Tenzyrin smirked, saying nothing until he'd finished cooling his armor and fastened it back over his chest. Then he moved to stand before Antoinetta, towering over her and fixing her with a casual stare. "Interesting proposition," he said, his voice a quiet rumble. "But I would hate to break a Tenet of Sithis by causing harm to another of the Brotherhood."

The comment caused Grogon to absolutely lose himself in uproarious laughter, sending the tankard of mead flying off the table. Antoinetta blushed furiously even as she giggled. "Well, we'd have to see about that, I think," she managed to blurt out, before taking a moment to compose herself. "But... ahem. Anyway. Ocheeva needs to see you now."

By the time they left the training room, Grogon had laughed himself into tears.

--

"So they're sending you to poison the warlord, hm?" Teinaava looked up from his customary chair. "My sister picked wisely. You'll have to use those stealth skills of yours if you want that bonus Ocheeva promised. I'd have taken the contract myself, but poisoning simply isn't my style." The Argonian chuckled, the sound a deep hissing in the back of his throat. "But I did scout the area out just in case. You'll be interested to know that there's a secondary entrance to the southwest of the fort, in what was probably the foundation of a guard emplacement. Even if the marauders know about it, it's likely to be less guarded than the front door. Should make getting the bonus easier on you."

"Hmh. Thanks for the information." Tenzyrin flicked his ears. "Though when it comes down to it, the challenge is more appealing to me than the reward. Although-" he patted his bow, which was slung over his back- "I won't go refusing the rewards, either."

Teinaava grinned at that. "A wise feline you are, Storm Cat. This one wishes you luck."

Tenzyrin nodded, then turned and walked through the interior of the Sanctuary, heading towards the well entrance. The Dark Guardian stalked by, intent on its tireless patrol. "Good to see you too, Bones," Tenzyrin joked as they passed each other; the reanimated skeleton didn't so much as turn its head.

There were downsides to owning a horse. One either had to spend time and effort caring for it, or money to have someone else do it. There was also the chance some passing wolf or minotaur would make a meal of it while one was off slitting some unfortunate's throat. But when one had to transport one's self and three hundred pounds of armor and weaponry over great distances, there was no greater investment than a steed with a strong back.

He could see dark clouds gathering over the late-afternoon horizon as he rode. It seemed he would be riding into a storm by the time he got to Fort Sutch. _How fitting,_ he thought. _The storm comes for Roderick tonight, and he'll be gone before it ends._ He fingered the small vial of poison in its pouch at his belt. For one idle moment he wondered who would want to finish off a half-dead Redguard in such a way... and then dismissed the thought entirely. It was not for him to question why- only to deliver the will of Sithis.

--/--

_I thank you for your hospitality, Lord Drad. It's truly been an enriching visit._

That, at least, is what Ghariyt the socialite might have said upon leaving. However, Ghariyt the thief knew better than to utter a sound; Dunmer ears were sharp, even as their owners slept. She'd learned that the hard way back in Vvardenfell.

What a surprise to find out that this Drad was actually a slaver; even if the slaves were ogres- for which Ghariyt had little empathy- stealing from a slave-owning Dark Elf felt like a little part of her life had finally come full-circle. _One of you slavers stole my freedom in Elsweyr,_ she thought. _Now I steal the trinkets you've bought with slave labor. _She silently closed the door of the estate behind her, easily evaded the patrol of the lone perimeter guard, and made her way back through the plantation- stopping along the way to snag some fresh strawberries from the garden- and headed towards the road. The downpour would cover her exit handily, especially with the ever-increasing volume of thunder...

_...that's not thunder..._

There was a distinct rumbling sound coming from over the next hill, cresting and fading almost like the ocean at full tide. Curiosity won out over caution, and she crept through the tall grasses towards the source of the sound, her pupils widening to take in all the light they could in the rain-swept darkness. The sound only got louder as she half-crawled over the hill.

When she finally saw what had been making the noise, she sorely wished she'd stayed in Bravil and had some of Gilgondorin's braised mutton.

A large arch, made of some sort of obsidian that gleamed wickedly in the occasional flashes of lightnig, was rising from the ground, throwing debris in a circle around it. Once it finished emerging, it stood motionless for a moment, before a shimmering red hole quickly spread to fill the inside. It hurt to look at it, not just from the brightness but from the very... wrongness of the thing. It warped and fluctuated like some neophyte mage's first invisibility spell.

Then forms began spilling through the portal- that's what it was, Ghariyt realized- and swarming across the plains. Some of them had eyes that glowed a harsh, ruddy red, and as she watched a pair of those eyes turned in her direction, paused, then began bobbing up and down quickly.

_Oh, Oblivion..._ The curse was entirely apropos here. Daedra had come to the Gold Coast, and one was coming for her.

Stealth went entirely out the window, and Ghariyt outright fled towards the north, half-blindly crashing through shrubs and stumbling over rocks in her haste to get away. The craggy spire of a ruined Imperial fort loomed out of the mists, and, desperate for a place where she could hide until she could be sure she had lost any pursuers, she made a beeline for it, panting heavily as her legs began to complain from the speed she was maintaining. She'd always been a sprinter, never a long-distance runner, especially in the wilderness, but she gained the entrance quickly, shoved one of the heavy doors open and- remembering that ruins such as this could hold things as deadly as any demon from the lower planes- quietly pushed it shut with her shoulder.

She panted heavily, trying her best to catch her breath with a minimum of noise as her eyes adjusted to being indoors. Several braizers were burning in the winding hallway she had found herself in, throwing flickering firelight across the grey stone walls. _Occupied by the living,_ she thought. _Doesn't mean anything for my safety; it's likely brigands, bandits or marauders, and I doubt they'd wait long enough to hear anything about a Daedric invasion before slaughtering me where I stood. I'll need to avoid them long enough to find either a back door or safe place to hole up until morning. I hate trying to sneak in the daytime, but those creatures have the advantage over me at night._

It wasn't a comfortable thought; the darkness was supposed to be her ally. But she'd dealt with those who used it better than her before, and had other ways of getting by. As she finally caught her breath and composed herself, she thought back to the books she'd read about Oblivion and the Daedric ranks; she could recall a fair amount, but all that knowledge was academic, hardly first-hand reports from the field, so to speak. She unslung her bow. _Most things react badly to an arrow to the head,_ she thought. _That's a good place to start._

She melded herself into the shadows, avoiding the braziers where she could and keeping to the walls and side passageways. It turned out that the occupants were indeed some sort of marauders, protecting someone they called Roderick, who was laid out sick and dying. It wasn't any concern of hers, except that their conversations helped her to avoid their patrols. She did manage to catch mention of a back entrance, which hurried her steps along as much as stealth would allow. A couple of passages turned out to be dead-ends, and she'd just doubled back from one of them when a thick plateclad arm reached out from the nearby passage, catching her by the shoulder. As quick as thought, her dagger was in her hand and then at the throat of her attacker- whose free hand had put the edge of a glass broadsword to her own neck.

_Argonian standoff._ After a tense moment, in which both adversaries realized the other was hesitating, Ghariyt looked up at her opponent. Cold blue eyes stared out from the faceplate of an ebony helm, beneath which her dagger's point was lightly pressed to the throat, just between the helm and the breastplate. The fact that this man hadn't sounded the alarm gave her a clue of his intent. "This one is not looking for trouble," she whispered. "This one just wants to find that back entrance and leave."

A moment's pause, then the broadsword lifted away; obligingly, she drew back her dagger. The male raised his left hand to raise the faceplate, and Ghariyt's ears folded back as she looked upon the face of this other interloper.

"Rhajiit," she muttered. The Pale Ones, the Surrendered, the Tainted. Those who had been slaves to the Dunmer of Morrowind for so long that their very nature had warped; they were no longer considered kin of the proper Khajiit race. The lips of the white-furred muzzle curled back in a smirk. "Yes, little thief," he murmured, his voice deep and menacing. "Obviously you come from Morrowind to know what I am. But I suggest you move quickly if you want to find the exit; in a few moments, the marauders are going to become very upset."

As if on cue, a cry of alarm rose out from the center of the ruins. "Dead!" a woman's voice called out. "Roderick is dead! He's been poisoned! Assassin!"

Ghariyt realized she'd run from one monster and run smack into another. _Dark Brotherhood,_ she thought, the only possibility she could come up with. The Rhajiit's smirk never wavered. "Not my night," she growled beneath her breath, resheathing her dagger and pressing her back to the opposite wall, letting the shadows swallow her. The assassin sheathed his claymore- which he'd darkened through smoking the solid glass- and likewise slid into a shadow, not as skillfully as she but damned well for someone wearing a full suit of armor. Ghariyt could hear the calls from the hallways further in the ruins:

"...may have infiltrated through the rear entrance..."

"...move in groups of two, check every corridor and tunnel..."

"...hear something coming up... oh Gods! OH GODS! WHAT IS THAT THING?!"

The wall Ghariyt was leaning against literally shook with the vibration of a deep, inhuman roar. A man's scream of terror was cut short a moment later. The Rhajiit glanced back, then shot her a demanding glare. "Daedra," Ghariyt hissed, unslinging her bow once more. "The exit. Use it if you want to live." With that, she spun on her heel and sprinted down the hall.

--/--

For a moment, Tenzyrin considered actually going to see these supposed "daedra" for himself. But as the screams and yells drew closer, he decided that- whatever it was- the source of the trouble was not something he wanted to encounter in the cramped confines of an unfamiliar fort. He made his way back towards the exit at a brisk walk, not very stealthy but also not announcing himself by clomping through the halls.

The thief- more than likely a member of that Guild, or else a very skilled independent- had already vanished from sight. She wasn't important. He was done here; Roderick was dead and he hadn't been seen by any of the marauders. It didn't matter if the marauders were now being torn to bits by Daedra or whatever. Sithis' will had been carried out.

He was about five turns of corridor away from the rear exit when that thief came tearing around the nearest corner like her tail was on fire. She skidded to a stop in front of him, not even seeming to care that his claymore was unsheathed and pointed at her. Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated. "Daedra," she gasped. "Other exit. We're trapped."

"Oh, is that so?" Tenzyrin gripped the sword with both hands. " 'Trapped' is not something I do, little thief. Watch and learn."

With that, he lowered the faceplate on his helm again, and as if a lever had been thrown, he became what he had been born to be... the predator. His sharp ears brought the sounds of clawed feet skittering across stone- bipedial, not more than a hundred pounds, likely no more than half his height- and sidestepped into the next passageway. A short, grey-skinned creature stumbled to a halt, screeched in surprise and raised one hand; magical flame blossomed in the palm.

_None of that, now._ The sharp edge of the claymore split the creature nearly in half from shoulder to opposite hip; gore splattered over the ancient stones as the creature screamed with what remained of its lungs and fell back. Tenzyrin stepped over the twitching corpse and set himself; his senses told him something else- also bipedal, also clawed, but much taller and heavier- was just about to round the corner.

It was reptilian, with a bony crest behind a dangerous-looking beak. Thick claws decorated its feet, and it flexed them as it screeched, setting itself and leaping before he could close in. It met the flat of his blade as he parried its bulk- and was almost knocked off his feet by it. _Heavier than it looks, and strong as well._ He planted his rear foot and swung the claymore in an upwards arc, almost scraping the point along the floor, aiming not for the shoulders- where the crest might deflect the swing- but instead the belly. When the edge of the weapon struck and cut through the tough scaly skin, he felt a jolt of agony shoot through his body; he snarled, forcing himself to ignore it and follow the swing with another, slashing again from below on the opposite side. The creature, still reeling from the first blow, took the second full-on and spilled its vital organs onto the ground. Again that sourceless pain tore through his nervous system, and he hissed. _Some sort of ability to reflect physical damage. I've seen it before, but never naturally inherent..._

That was all the time he had for consideration. There was yet another creature coming, and its heavy footfalls literally shook the ground under his feet. Whatever it was, it was likely larger than he was. With a deep, throaty snarl, the creature rounded- no, squeezed through- the corner.

And that was likely the closest Tenzyrin had ever come to knowing fear in his life.

The monster stood half again as tall as him, wider at the shoulders than his claymore was long, and covered with thick scales that almost resembled some form of natural platemail. Jagged teeth decorated a crocodillian maw that was spattered with blood and stray bits of some unfortunate creature's flesh. The monster paused, then roared, shaking the walls around them-

-right until Tenzyrin drove the point of his claymore into its belly.

It didn't get far. The scales were tougher than they looked, and the weapon scored only a superficial wound, with a blow that would have skewered even a minotaur like a kebab. The monster stared down at him for a brief moment, almost as if asking "What were you thinking?!", before rasing one massive clawed hand.

THOK 

A black arrow now protruded from the thing's left eye. It roared in agony and lurched back, caught by surprise; another arrow thudded home in its neck, not going as deep as Tenzyrin would have thought an ebony arrow would go. But it distracted the creature enough for him to pull the sword free and deliver a boot to its chest; the kick, catching it already off-balance, sent it crashing to the floor. Tenzyrin turned and saw the thief standing there, another arrow nocked.

"Bad place," he told her. "I need room to swing and maneuver. Back into one of the chambers, unless you want to poke them with that cheese knife you call a weapon."

"And get ourselves surrounded?" The Khajiit slipped the arrow back in its quiver. "We need to make it to that exit!"

"We're not getting around that moving roadblock in this hallway. Back!"

Finally, the thief gained some sense, and slipped into the darkness of the next hall. As the monstrosity regained its feet, Tenzyrin raised his left hand, palm forward, and concentrated. _I'm not called the Storm Cat just because of the color of my fur._ A crackle, a burst of blinding blue-white light, and the lightning bolt caught the creature full in the chest- not as lethally as he'd have liked, but the roar of pain was satisfying enough. As its limbs jerked and its massive bulk fell back to the floor, Tenzyrin whirled and ran, all attempts at stealth abandoned. A couple more of the small, grey-skinned creatures decorated the hall- one with a steel arrow through its heart, the other with a slit throat- and the thief was crouched on a pillar in the chamber, another arrow nocked. "Quiet for now," she whispered. "Where's that monster?"

"Not far behind. I'll get it away from the hall, and you put an arrow its other eye. Then we both make for that hallway and the exit."

"And if there's another one like it behind?"

Tenzyrin smirked. "Then we get to see what lies beyond the veil of this mortal realm."


	2. Getting Out, Reporting In

_Splendid. Trapped in a run-down fort, surrounded by Daedra, and my only backup is a murderer who fancies himself a philosopher. Somewhere, the Gods are laughing._

Dying wasn't a prospect Ghariyt liked to think about much. Of course, it was a risk in her chosen line of work; many guards, upon encountering intruders, were trained to stab first and ask questions never. But those kinds of threats she could plan for, mitigate, or outright avoid with care and imagination.

This was not that kind of situation. Two exits, both blocked by hostile creatures, and precious little room to hide from eyes that seemed expert in finding her. Her only hope was holding a sword that probably weighed more than she did and obviously had no compunction about using it. She'd have to admit, though- the Rhajiit's plan was probably the best available under the circumstances. So when those terrible footfalls echoed through the passage they'd just come through, she quieted her mind of unnecessary thoughts and raised her bow.

_Daedroth. The creature is a daedroth. They can... what is it they can do? Recover from wounds quickly, and... gah!_ "Assassin!" she hissed. "The creature can breathe fire! Be on guard!"

"Good of you to tell me that now," she heard him mutter, just before the reptilian monstrostity wedged itself through the narrow doorway. One arrow had come out of its shoulder, leaving a slowly-bleeding wound, but the one in its eye was still present- and the creature seemed intent on revenge. However, the ebony-clad murderer between it and her posed a formidable obstacle, and it was on him that the monster focused first, lashing out with one massive clawed hand that the Rhajiit easily beat aside with the flat of his blade.

As the battle was joined, Ghariyt watched carefully, waiting for the right moment to strike. This killer wasn't like any other assassin she'd come across; neither careful shadow-stalker nor raging beast, he was confident but not brash, cautious but not hesitant. He struck out with his claymore at weak points at the daedroth's body, scoring cuts on its joints and other weak points in its scaly skin. The blows seemed intended more to anger the creature than to harm it, and as the Rhajiit slowly maneuvered away from the hallway, the daedroth kept at him, snarling and swinging the whole while. The few blows that got through the assassin's defense were deflected fairly well by the thick ebony armor- and it seemed that the male had a damned high tolerance for physical pain, to boot.

Then, with a deft series of attacks, he cut at the creature's hamstrings, thrust the pommel of his claymore into its stomach and then brought the haft up to slam into the daedroth's chin. The demon reeled, off-balance, and Ghariyt saw her chance. The fingers that had been holding the bowstring taut the entire time finally let go.

THOK 

The ebony shaft struck true, and the daedroth's remaining eye was lost in a splattering of viscous fluids. It roared in agony and clutched at its head; any normal creature would have been struck dead by the first arrow through its eye socket, let alone the second, but somehow this creature was still doing its best to kill them both, flailing out wildly with both hands, despite being blind. The assassin literally shouldered the beast aside, sending it falling against the nearby wall in a heap. Its throat contracted, and a belch of fire left its maw, only to strike the ceiling harmlessly.

By the time the light from the fireball had faded, Ghariyt had already jumped down from the pillar and was running for the hallway, and the assassin was well ahead of her. Motion in the other corridor leading further into the ruined fort caught her attention, and she spared a glance to her right; something tall, humanoid and angry was storming forward, with those same glowing red eyes that she'd seen outside. She skidded to a stop, feeling for and quickly finding her last ebony arrow, notching it in a heartbeat and firing almost from the hip; there wasn't much of a chance of missing at that short range. The heavy projectile caught the interloper full in the chest, and it snarled something in a language that hurt her ears; she didn't stay around to see if the shot proved fatal, instead pushing herself off into a run with all the speed her sore legs could supply her.

Some bizarre corner of her mind catalogued the corpses she passed by. _Scamp. Clannfear... maybe a runt? Another scamp. And another... these things are worse than rats!_ Thankfully, the assassin was doing a handy job of clearing the way, and aside from having to finish off one not-quite-mortally-wounded scamp with her dagger, she made it unmolested to the rear door, which hung off of one hinge. Apparently the assassin hadn't cared for the subtlety of turning the knob and had instead kicked the heavy oak door in... or, more accurately, out.

The storm hadn't let up in the least, but she could see the assassin squaring off against a pair of Clannfear. _Oblivion, how did they get this far this fast, anyway?_ she wondered, even as she nocked one of her steel arrows and let fly. The shaft took the right-hand Clannfear in the neck, staggering it; the assassin almost immediately shoved the other Clannfear onto its back, then gripped the arrow she had just fired, pulled it downward and shoved the tip up into the reptile's skull. Its gurgling cry of agony cut off midway through, and it dropped like a stone.

Before he could turn, the remaining Clannfear was on his back, almost taking him off of his feet. Its claws scrabbled against his armor as it took bites at the back of his neck, trying to get at the flesh between helmet and backplate. She didn't have a shot that didn't risk hitting the assassin, and she certainly wasn't going to kill the male who'd helped her out of this mess- even if he was a Rhajiit. In one smooth motion, she shouldered her bow and slid her dagger from its sheath; quick steps brought her into striking range as the Rhajiit gripped the Clannfear's crest with his left hand and pulled. A tenuous hold on the wet scales, only exposing the back of the daedra's neck for a moment-

-which was all she needed. She sank her blade into the exposed weak spot, neatly severing the spine. Agony unlike anything she'd ever known shot through her body, and she almost lost her grip on the dagger even as the Clannfear slid down the Rhajiit's back and fell to the ground. She fell to one knee, managing to pull her weapon free, and panting harshly as the dulling echoes of pain reverbrated through her.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" A massive hand pulled her to her feet. "Nice blow you landed there," the assassin said nonchalantly, kicking the Clannfear with one booted foot.

"Heard this one closing in, didn't you?" She unsteadily regained her feet, shaking her head and trying to force her vision to clear. The pouring rain had already cleaned the blood from her blade, so she did her best to shake the water off before sheathing it. "Word needs to go out to Anvil," she coughed. "The guards will need to know there's daedra near."

"Right. You go ahead and do that." The Rhajiit sheathed his claymore and looked around for a moment, then started walking at a brisk clip towards the east; Ghariyt spotted a horse milling about behind a wall, which afforded the beast some protection from the rain. After a moment's hesitation, Ghariyt turned and headed the other way, seeking Drad's estate and the road leading away from it towards the south. She paused in a clump of bushes along the way to quickly slip out of her leathers and into a dress, which was almost immediately soaked by the downpour; she hated ruining a good dress this way, but she couldn't let the Anvil guards see her in her "professional attire". With her gear safely stowed away in her small back, she broke into a full-out run for the fourth time tonight, her aching legs giving bitter complaint but performing as asked.

Finally, she reached the Anvil walls, and practically threw herself through the gates, almost crashing into one of the guards- Antonius, she remembered from the time spent ingratiating herself with the city watch. Not a particularly bright Imperial, but honest and quick to laugh at a joke. "Whoa there," he said, caught by surprise. "Lady Ghariyt? This is a surprise! What are you doing out in this weather?"

"I... got a late start... from Skingrad," she panted. The exhaustion wasn't an act in the least. "I was looking for a place to hide from the storm, and... a gate! Some sort of gate, with daedra pouring out of it! I barely got away with my life!" Again, another truth; she didn't have to tell the guard that she'd killed several of them. "It was terrible! Right near someone's estate, as well! Northeast of here- they could be in danger!"

"That sounds like the Drad Estate," Antonius mused. "You're sure, Lady Ghariyt? Daedra? I mean... that's unheard of!"

She repressed a growl of irritation. "I've read many books on them, Antonius! I'm completely certain!"

Antonius respected her for being as literate as she was; apparently, he didn't do much reading besides his usual paperwork. "Alright then," he said, his voice becoming soothing. "I'll send a squad of guards to investigate, and I'll tell them to be careful. You look exhausted, Lady Ghariyt; you should get some rest. Go to the Count's Arms and tell Wilbur that the nightly fee will be covered by the city watch; if you're right, you'll have done Anvil a great service by giving us early warning."

Rather unexpectedly decent of the guard; Gharyit managed a smile and a raise of her ears. "Thank you so much," she said. "Have your people use caution, please! Those beasts are dangerous!"

"I will, don't worry." Antonius ran towards the nearest guard tower; Ghariyt trudged her way towards the Count's Arms. Inside, the Redguard proprietor listened with some skepticism at what she said, but granted her the use of one of the rooms free of charge, provided she kept the floors dry. He even had the nerve to watch her as she went up the stairs- as though she were inclined upon stealing the railings or something.

As she stripped out of her wet clothes, pulled a nightdress on and half-collapsed into the waiting bed, she resolved that she would eventually do just that.

--/--

"Well, aren't you a sight." Vincente smiled at the soaking-wet Rhajiit. "What happened, Brother? Ocheeva insists that you were successful in eluding detection by the marauders, yet you look as though you served as a training dummy for half the Fighters Guild."

"Daedra happened." Tenzyrin began methodically removing his armor, setting it down on the table. Next to him, the vampire frowned. "Daedra?" he repeated. "Where, Brother? By the fort?"

"That's right." His legplates were dented heavily, and one bore a pair of scratches that had gone halfway through the metal. "And inside the fort, now, as well. Most likely the marauders are all dead."

"Hmm." Vincente sat at the table, stroking his chin. "This is distressing news. Especially in light of the news we've received regarding Kvatch."

"Kvatch?" Tenzyrin had been there a couple of times; nothing exceptional as far as cities went, but hardly as bad as Bravil. They had a decent armorer, at least. "What about it?"

"Gone, we've been told. Sacked and burned by daedra. A gate of some sort opened almost on their doorstep." Vincente leaned back in the chair, an unaccustomed look of worry on his drawn face. "I'd been ready to dismiss it as fancy, until hearing what you've said."

"Hmh." By now, Tenzyrin had stripped down to his trousers, his armor carefully laid out on the table. "Kvatch, and not far from Anvil. Odds of there just being two of them are slim, I'd say."

"Agreed, Brother. Perhaps a meeting is in order to assess the threat." Vincente picked up the scratched legplate. "Any creature that could inflict damage like this is dangerous," he continued, tracing the long, jagged marks with his fingertips.

"I had the luck of running into a thief inside the ruins. Apparently she knew something about the daedra. Of course, I had to do the majority of the hard work."

"Indeed," Vincente chuckled. "I will have Ocheeva assemble the Brothers and Sisters of the Sanctuary this afternoon. Telaendril is due back from Leyawiin by that time. There will be much to discuss, Brother, and what you have encountered will be very informative. In the meantime, however, I strongly suggest you get some rest." The vampire smiled. "No offense, Brother, but you look like something Schemer would drag in."

"I'm going to eat that rat one of these days." Tenzyrin managed a weary smirk. He was tired, bone-achingly so; he hadn't stopped for a moment's rest since getting on his horse. He was going to be in no small amount of pain tomorrow, but a couple of potions would remedy that at least long enough for him to participate in the meeting. Besides, he'd been hurt worse than this and still managed to get things done.

His bed creaked slightly under the weight of his body, the one pillow caught his head as it dropped down, and sleep, the younger brother of death, took possession of the Storm Cat.

--

Teinaava set one of his books down on the table, opened to a page with a bookmark nestled beside it. "A daedroth," he said, pointing to the illustration. "The creature you had the most trouble with, and for good reason. It's written that they can magically reinforce the toughness of their skin."

"No kidding. It felt like I was fighting a very angry stone statue. It certainly hit like one." Tenzyrin rubbed the back of his neck. "They also breathe fire, apparently, but only as some sort of secondary ability. It's possible the creature didn't want to do so in close combat."

"The book concurs." Teinaava flipped a few pages forward. "Clannfear. Strong and exceedingly violent. There are stories of seasoned warriors dropping dead just after killing one."

"They have some sort of ability to reflect physical damage inflicted on them. I and the thief both felt it. My tolerance towards pain was better than hers." A few chuckles arose from those seated around the table. "But they are strong for their size, and agile- they seem to use their tails for balance. One of the ones I fought had trouble moving backwards well, though."

"Good to know." Teinaava closed the book. "And the scamps, which several of us have seen summoned on occasion. Aside from a small amount of skill with fire spells, they're not much worthy of note. You had said there was something else, Tenzyrin?"

"I saw the thief take a shot at something out of my view. Whatever it was her arrow hit, it spoke. Not any language I know of." He twitched an ear. "Something ancient, and with some kind of power behind it. It felt like my ears were on fire for a minute or two."

"Hmmm." The Argonian male returned to his seat, and looked over to Ocheeva. "What will we do about this, sister?"

"I will summon Lucien. Perhaps the Night Mother has some instruction for us. In the meantime, you are all ordered to avoid these creatures unless it is necessary for you to destroy them." Ocheeva folded her hands together. "I want no reason given for daedra to come knocking on our door. Not until we understand the scope of this situation better."

"Bah. Ten gets to rumble with some daedra but the rest of us don't?" Gogron looked positively put-out. "I wanted to go toe-to-toe with one of those daedroth!"

"If you didn't end up exchanging beauty tips first," Ocheeva snorted. The Orc scowled as everyone else laughed. "You heard me, Gogron. But if we do find ourselves with the need to fight one of them, your name will be first on my list."

That seemed to mollify the Orc somewhat. Ocheeva nodded, and the members of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary stood. "We're done, then," the female reptile said. "I'll let you all know what Lucien has to say as soon as I speak with him. In the meantime, continue with your regular contracts and tasks. If you see any more daedra of signs of these gates, make careful note of where and report back to me as soon as discretion allows. Am I understood?"

Affirmatives rose up from all around the table as the others stood as well. The matter had been settled.

--/--

"My goodness." Herminia covered her mouth with her had for a moment. "You are ever so fortunate, Ghariyt! Imagine if those beasts had caught you!" She glanced over at Wumeek, who nodded in agreement. "Indeed," he murmured, his slitted eyes narrowed in worry. "We would be saddened if you had come to harm. And with news of what became of Kvatch...!" The Argonian held up the copy of the Black Horse Courier, with the headline "Kvatch Razed In Attack From Oblivion!". "These are dangerous times," he continued. "I worry for my friend Weebam-Na, but do I dare travel to Leyawiin now, knowing there are daedra possibly on the loose in the wilds?"

"Travel anywhere is dangerous," Ghariyt said. "I was fortunate enough to find escort with a guarded caravan, and we saw nothing unusual. But if you do need to travel, Wumeek, speak to the Fighters or Mages Guild! Better to spend money on protection than risk your life!"

Herminia nodded. "Sound advice. I myself have contracted for a sorcerer to escort me to Cheydinhal. Not that I can't hold my own under most circumstances, but against daedra... who wants to take chances?"

Wumeek was about to speak when rapid footsteps came around the nearby corner. Urjabhi, one of the three proprietors of the Black Horse Courier, skidded around the curve and ran towards them, a stack of parchments in one hand. "Kvatch liberated!" he shouted hoarsely, in between pants for breath. "Mysterious hero destroys Oblivion gate!" He practically threw a parchment into Herminia's hands, barely slowing. In another moment he was around the next corner and out of sight. Gharyit and Herminia gathered around for a glimpse at the parchment.

It wasn't up to the Courier's usual standards; an entire line of typefacing was tilted, and there were several misspelled words. But apparently they had decided that news this important had needed to go out as soon as possible. It seemed that some stranger had simply ridden up to the Oblivion gate by the entrance to Kvatch, then had gone inside; not long afterwards, the gate simply blew up, leaving this mysterious savior standing in the rubble. He- reports varied, but it seemed this wandering hero was a male Argonian- then led a compliment of Kvatch's guards inside the city walls and cut a path through the invading daedra. No less than two dozen people trapped inside the chapel had been rescued thanks to whoever this man was- and he was already being referred to as the "Hero of Kvatch".

Ghariyt normally took a dim view towards adventurers and their antics. But after having faced what was honestly just a handful of daedra herself, she had to admit- having the intestinal fortitude to go inside one of those gates made that person a real hero in her book. "By the Nine," Herminia gasped. "Do you know what this means?"

"We can beat them," Wumeek finished for her. "Thank the Gods, we can defeat the daedra! We can close their gates!"

"It won't be easy, though," Ghariyt cautioned. "If you two do see anything on your travels, tell any Imperial Legion guard you can! The more we know about these monsters and where they lurk, the better."

The Imperial and the Argonian were both in complete agreement with that.

--

"Word has come down from the Gray Fox on this Oblivion matter." It was quiet on the Waterfront at midnight, and Armand's voice was similarly hushed. "Firstly, and most obvious, there will be no bloodprice for killing any daedra. Secondly, the beggars will be keeping their ears open for word of any encounters with daedra from the adventuring types, and will pass on what they hear. Thirdly, while of course we don't encourage any of the Guild to go wandering through one of these gates for any reason, we have reached a sort of... agreement with the Imperial Legion. Any information we can give them on locations of gates, possible daedric worshippers or summoners, or anything else useful will be taken, without question as to where or how the information was gathered. In return, the Legion will loosen up some of the patrols in the city proper for the time being. This isn't a license to be careless, though."

Methredhel snorted. "Since when are we the information-gathering arm of the law?" she questioned.

"We're not." The Redguard's voice lowered, ever so slightly, but the Bosmer was suitably chastized. "But our usual 'dance' with the Legion aside... this is a serious matter. The Emperor and all his sons are dead. Gates to Oblivion have been spotted in all four corners of Cyrodiil and beyond. An entire city has been wiped out. I, for one, don't mind giving the Legion a hand against this."

"Neither do I." Ghariyt had pushed her hood back, and her ears were set. "Though I'm not going to sic them on someone who turns out to be innocent. Best to use our heads."

"Good point." Armand nodded. "Not only because the bulldogs in the Legion sometimes go crazy chasing the wrong scent, but it would waste time and effort that would be much better spent on tracking a real threat. Continue on with your jobs as you see fit, but keep your eyes open and be careful. If you've got any questions or think there's anything the Guild as a whole needs to know, talk to me or S'Krivva. Oh, and one other thing." He reached out and patted Ghariyt's shoulder. "The Grey Fox asked me to congratulate you, Ghariyt. He got word of what happened near Bravil. He was impressed with how you got the guards to investigate."

She lowered her ears demurely. "He wouldn't have been so impressed if he'd seen me in that rain," she chuckled. "But thanks."

With that, the impromptu meeting of the Thieves Guild broke up. Methredhel accompanied Ghariyt on the short walk back to her house on the Waterfront. "Looks like the Gray Fox is taking notice of you," the Bosmer woman chuckled.

Ghariyt shrugged, falling back into her Khajiiti patois. "This one is just a simple thief, trying to keep her head connected to her shoulders."

"Oh, I wouldn't be surprised to see you go places in the Guild. Keep it up." And with that, Methredhel turned and walked towards the harbor, quickly vanishing from sight. _But I don't really want to go places,_ Ghariyt thought. _I'm just looking to make a living here, not climb the Guild ladder. And yet it seems that all these jobs just find me of their own accord..._ She sighed. _I can't be that good a thief, can I? I'd better check my head for swelling... can't go around letting my ego inflate._


End file.
